


Behind the magician's smile

by Akatra



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Non-Graphic Smut, Slow Burn, phantom troup
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-05-03 23:25:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14579922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akatra/pseuds/Akatra
Summary: It was at the Heaven's Arena that their destinies met. At the time, she lived in the shadows, nicknamed Silence by the spectators of the arena. He, who raged in the light, was dazzled by her tenebrous radiance. They both realized, far too late, that the mechanics of their hearts had started that day. He, who betrayed her. She, who had loved him. [Hisoka x OC]





	1. The end we longed for

**Author's Note:**

> Good morning, everyone! It's a translation of one of my French fictions. I won't do much revision, so there will probably be a lot of mistakes. I hope you will enjoy it anyway, and don't hesitate to report any major mistakes!

Under her feet, the ground was moving at a lightning speed. In the forest, however, only the sound of his breathing and the rustling of the leaves could be heard. She tried as best she could to erase her aura and presence, but the state of panic in which she found herself made the task difficult. So she would run, she would put all her energy into running. Suddenly she listened and stopped. She knew they were following her, but she was several days ahead of them. She knew there was no one behind her. She knew it was impossible. That no one could reach her speed. But that feeling never left her, no matter how far she walked. She was stopped, her breathing now inaudible, frozen. Only one person could have followed her, guessed her direction. Only one person could have known where she was going to hide. And this bad feeling, very bad feeling was settling more and more, making her uncomfortable. Why didn't she turn around? Was she afraid that she was right? It was not so much that she knew that no one could follow her, but rather that she believed it. And in recent days, her self-confidence, her confidence in others, her confidence in herself had lost all its value. What she believed no longer mattered, she had believed in him, and that belief had brought her to that precise moment. In the middle of a clearing, frozen, frightened, betrayed and panicked.  
  
It wasn't like her to be scared like that, she knew it. It wasn't death that would make her tremble like that. She knew how the world worked _kill or be killed_. She understood the value of her life by the light of the streetlights in the dark, damp alleys. There, lying on cold cobblestones, bleeding to death, she realized she was worthless. Under the eyes of the little girl, at the time, a procession of shadows stretched out. Men and women laughing, smiling, passed by the entrance of the alley. Their laughter sounded like a requiem to her ears. Their light was far from her that day, and she died in their shadow. At no time did she find this unfair, or fear the final grade. Even today, she had killed far too many people to fear death. What made her tremble, in the heart of the forest, was something much more vicious.  
  
The girl had never felt or experienced violent passions before; she was broken from birth. Never in her life had she become attached to anyone. And yet she was torn apart by unbearable pain. And yet, a wound she couldn't heal infected her heart. She had become attached, at some point. Feelings that she had never experienced before invaded her, leaving her breathless, tired, panicked. The previously abstract concept of fear was becoming more and more familiar, and she did not know how to react. And he was behind her. Her heart knew it. This once non-existent receptacle, empty, beat painfully in her chest, reacting to his aura.

_He, who found her._   
_He, who disrupted her daily life._   
_He, who had earned her trust._   
_He, who betrayed her._   
  
_She, who had ignored him._   
_She, who had rejected him._   
_She, who had accepted him._   
_She, who had loved him._

In a final wait, she released her aura to respond to his. She wanted to keep the mask a little longer, hide her pain. Hide her feelings. She turned slowly, her blue eyes meeting yellow pupils. The magician nonchalantly leaned against a tree, silently scrutinizing her. He had the same cruel smile as usual, that smile she hated at first, that smile she had come to believe was sincere. His hair was smooth, streaks slightly hiding his electric look. He was wearing the same white pants, the one he wore in their last fight, tinged with blood.  
  – You're not easy to find, you almost seem to be hiding, E-n-y-a ~

He was holding his left arm, pushing his nails into his pulpit. Her eyes never leaving her, his gaze intensifying more and more. He took a first step, and Enya's aura wavered slightly. She repressed a tremor, having difficulty maintaining her neutrality. He stopped suddenly, staring silently at her, and suddenly memories came over her. She stood back, holding her face in her hands. She closed her eyes. _I don't want to fight you, I don't want to kill you, I don't want to lose you, I don't want to lose you, I don't want to lose you, I don't want to, I don't want to, I don't want to, I don't want to..._  
  – Look at me, asked the magician coldly.  
  – I don't... I don't want to... she whispered, panicked.  
  – Look at me, _Enya_ , he insisted more violently.  
  – I don't want to lose you, she murmured in an almost inaudible voice.  
  – If you don't want to lose, fight and look at me. _Look at me like that day_.  
  
The magician became impatient, clearly irritated by the girl's condition. On his face one could read incomprehension. The girl who had sworn to kill him a few days earlier was now prostrate on the ground. He had only taken one step towards her, and her aura had dissipated. Her eyes had gone out, her eyelids had closed. It wasn't what he wanted, it wasn't what he sought for, it wasn't what _they wanted_. A few years earlier, he had been dazzled by her tenebrous radiance. Dazzled by the abyssal depth of her gaze. Blood, that's what she promised him. That's what he wanted. What they wanted. But when she raised her head and looked into his eyes, what he saw there took his breath away. Beyond the boundaries of her eyes, he no longer saw darkness, but an infinite declination of blue. He saw there a whirlwind of emotion, and a heat that did not exist before. A heat that shouldn't be there. He saw a tumultuous sea overflowing from her eyelids, flowing over her cheeks.

_That's not what I wanted._   
_This is not the end we longed for._   
_What are these foreign feelings in me?_

 


	2. When we cross paths

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Then I warn you that there will be problems with him/her. I still haven't checked if the sentences were correct or not, but that'll come later.

**Three years earlier**

_"And once again, it's a crushing victory for Silence!"_

A thunder of applause filled the room, welcoming the young girl's victory. Lights, noises, blurred sounds cheering her victory, she looked at the delirious, inexpressive crowd. Her long white hair, illuminated by projectors, had the colour of the moon. The Floor Master didn't like excitement, preferring quiet evenings, lost in her thoughts or in the sky. She had originally chosen an assumed name, but as her popularity grew in the tower, people nicknamed her Silence. She then accepted the nickname, changing her stage name.  
  
   
  
When she thought about it, her presence in the Celestial Tower and her position as Floor Master had not really been planned. The girl, because of her work, had followed one of her targets here and eliminated her in an official fight. It turned out that her target was a Floor Master, and that she had also won her title. She did not particularly like to be applauded, or recognized, such a position did not really resemble her. She was a creature of darkness. However, her position allowed herto gather information, and to have a place to sleep. It had therefore been over a year since she assumed the position of Floor Master, occasionally having to fight those who had risen to her level.  
  
   
  
She looked at the old man's body in front of her, deciding to leave the stage. She had to admit that the man had to work hard to provoke her into a duel, but he was too impatient, and that was what caused his loss. She was about to leave the stage, when a sound interrupted her thoughts. _Plic, ploc_. The young girl's eyes opened with astonishment, looking towards the ground, before frowning. Two red stains came out of the white stone. _Blood, my blood_. A clamor attracted the attention of the young woman, who turned towards the old man. He was almost standing, one arm extended, and the other leaning on his bend knees. On the girl's shoulder, nen crystals slowly faded, showing the physical condition of her former opponent.  
– The fight... is not over, said the man with difficulty.

 

The man looked her in the eyes, a cold anger veiled by a smile of circumstance. A determined smile. Silence sighed inside. She could see it in his eyes before he even said it, which motivated him. It was the pure spirit of the fighters, those who put their lives on the line in a fight. The young woman never killed without reason, and never showed her true power in public. Because of her work, she might one day have to kill someone watching her game, and she didn't really like wasting time. The man in front of her wanted a real fight, not a stage demonstration. She knew that. She could smell it. That no matter what he said, he'd keep fighting.  
– You didn't take me seriously, I'm still alive, accused the old man, you didn't even use your true abilities.  
– I see, she answered calmly, measuring the old man.  
– I will only leave this scene in two ways, and you know it.  
– I know, she replied.  
  
At these words he rushed towards her, and the referee tried to intervene. The old man threw him off the stage, sending him crashing into the stands. Silence observed his movements, the old man being slowed down by his fatigue and injuries. She was still hesitant to fight seriously. But when he came in front of her, she recognized something in her eyes that she had not seen before. Resentment. She saw in her eyes that there was more to this struggle than a simple warrior desire, than a simple competition.  
  
   
  
The man once again formed Nen crystals in his hands, aiming at the woman's hand. She dodged the blow, moving over the man, aiming for his neck. However, he turned his bust slightly, opening his mouth. She saw a crystal shining, and barely had time to avoid the attack. She rolled on the ground, having increased her dodge speed but miscalculated her trajectory. The man continued his attacks, spitting crystals at the young woman, but still seemed to miss her by a few centimetres. She stood up, looking him in the eye. The truth was she could have avoided those crystals more easily, using her true power. That she could have defeated him in seconds, with her true speed. He also knew that in the arena she imposed a limit on herself. Quite honestly, her level was already high if she relied only on her physical abilities and despite these precautions, the man in front of her knew she wasn't fighting seriously. That could only mean one thing, this man had met her before.  
  
   
  
Suddenly, the crystals disappeared a few centimetres from Silence and a silver dust enveloped the young woman. To most spectators, the crystals had mysteriously evaporated, resembling a magic trick. But the initiates present in the room saw a whole other thing. They watched silently, and intensely. Some knew her work, and in the underworld she was almost as respected as the Zoldick family. However, no one knew her ability or even her specialization. Many suspected that only the dead had such knowledge about the young woman.

 

As she made the crystals disappear, one man watched her intensely, far more intensely than all the people in the arena put together. There were, however, spectators feeding on his presence alone. Spectators drowning in this dark and icy aura. There was even a young man, in the front row, in whose eyes there was lust. A young man whose grey eyes contemplated the abyssal power of the young woman. But lurking in the shadows, two yellow eyes looked at the young woman's movements. In those crazy, sick eyes, a tragic plot came to life. The owner of these eyes was slowly descending the stairs, his attention shared between the young man in the front row, and the Floor Master. Nevertheless, his gaze lingered on the young woman, seeking to penetrate her secrets. Silence, foreign to this man's thoughts, continued his action.  
  
   
  
In front of her, the old man walked cautiously. From the young woman now released an immeasurable heat, an aura of flame. In her hands, a sword had materialized, and she was watching her opponent's reaction. It had been a while since I had used it, she thought as she focused on the characteristics of her sword. In most of her fights, she fought hand-to-hand. Although she spent much of her adolescence working on her sword, she rarely used it. She had been working on her transformation and emission, in addition to materialization, and what she was about to do was very dangerous. Not only for her opponent, but especially for her. That is why she used this sword only very rarely, generally contenting herself with materializing her aura in a less cumbersome weapon. Her work was a job of discretion, and her power was not adequate for this kind of mission. She then put several scales to the use of her power. The first step was to transform the characteristics of her aura into one of the elements she mastered. The second step was the materialization of her sword. The third stage was... The young woman's blue eyes planted in the old man's gaze, she breathed her aura into her blade. Aware that now no physical attack could reach her, she closed her eyes. In her head, she visualized an erupting volcano, and the burning vapor of magma. The ashes, the smoke, the heat, the pain. Arena spectators could see the sword gradually light up, the heart of the blade turning into a blaze. Shortly afterwards, a compact and suffocating aura surrounded the young woman, her sword becoming incandescent. She reopened her eyes, moving her right leg back, adopting a fighting position. She was ready.

  

**Here is the sword of silence (soon Enya).**  
She concentrates her aura, and breathes one of the elements she masters into the blade.

 


	3. Our destinies split apart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same warning as before, I will have to correct this text entirely because the translation is awful.

 

> _"I can offer you the power you seek, but on one condition."_
> 
> _At these words, the child looked up and looked at the man in front of her. Kneeling in the mud, shaking her hands and holding a dagger soiled by time, she offered this man a tragic spectacle. The child's gaze seemed to pass through him, reaching a horizon he dared not imagine. She was one of the creatures of the lower city, those who hide from the sunlight and grow up in darkness. There was no trace of that child's innocent eyes; the warm light replaced by an icy depth, a soulless depth that broke his heart. The man knelt down and took the dagger out of his hands, throwing it down the dark alley. He stroked the curve of his face, noticing the freshness of his skin, the resolution in his expression. Opposite him stood a child ready to die._
> 
> _"I can offer you the power to survive, to detach yourself from your past. I can offer you both these things. However, this power will one day become your curse."_
> 
> _The girl was always looking at a horizon in her mind, a world she could never reach. The one of the light, of the world running further and further away from her. She hadn't been able to kill that man or even defend herself. Listening to the raindrops falling on the ground, she had accepted her fate. She would follow this man, and become stronger, no matter what the cost. Whatever the consequences._

 

A completely different atmosphere now possessed the battle room. Insensitive to the concussion caused by their exchange, the two fighters judged each other. Immobile, deaf to public encouragement, they were locked in a world of their own. At any moment, the fight was about to begin. At any moment, one of them would make the first move. The young woman's aura invaded her opponent's space, challenging him to come towards her. _Challenging him to venture into hell_. The old man inhaled slowly, positioning his feet on the ground. He closed his eyes, and in his hands appeared two thin crystal swords. Adopting the same position as the young woman, ignoring the bleeding of her leg, forgetting the pain that was going through her arm, he rushed.  
  
   
  
The old man projected himself upon her, forming a crystal screen in front of him. Man transformed his aura into a water cell, concentrating them to form crystals as hard as iron. Silence chose fire accordingly. She stretched out her sword, her feet motionless, waiting for him to arrive. The man's speed had improved, and one could see in his movements that he had changed his fighting style. Nevertheless, her crystal screen weakened, reached by the heat released by the young woman. She was observing her movements, presenting a hidden dimension in man's strategy, and something else. Something else was present before her eyes, but she couldn't see it. An unpleasant sensation tightened her chest, and she could not make it disappear.  
  
   
  
The man suddenly disappeared, and she turned to ward off his attack. But all she saw was a crystal puppet, liquefied by the heat of her sword, well turned into steam. Silence raised her head, just in time to counter one of the old man's swords, but not his feet. He had just landed on his shoulders, protected by a thick crystal armor, trying to unbalance it. The young woman staggered, nevertheless keeping her balance, and brought her sword back to the old man. He leaned briefly on her, projecting back and protecting her flan with his second crystal sword. The impact of the sword was far more powerful than he had anticipated and, thrown across the stage, he stopped running by scraping the stone with his hands. Barefoot and burned, in blood, he had clung to the cobblestones with all his might. To protect himself, he had thickened his armour at the impact site, but only a thin crystalline layer remained from the ice barrier. The rest of his body had suffered the damage caused by the projection.

 

The old man looked up, feverishly. _With a determined look_. Stumbling, he stood up and inspired deeply, taking a new position. He stood up straight and joined his index finger and thumb in each hand. He then seemed to concentrate the rest of his strength and Silence, who was observing the change in his aura, immediately rushed in his direction. The man had just changed completely, darkness now surrounded him. She understood that part of the discomfort she felt came from the ability that the old man had hidden; he could become dangerous if he was not stopped immediately. _Immediately_. The young woman had no time to think, yet something was bothering her. _Something is wrong_ , she thought. Never before had she felt the need to shorten a fight in this way. She had never been so aware of danger. His body reacted instinctively towards this man who was getting stronger and stronger. To this man who was going to force her to go beyond the fourth stage, the final stage of her capacity. _How did this happened?_ The young woman was aware of the condition that allowed her to use this power, and she knew the risks. However, despite her maximum speed, she knew she would not reach it before he used her power. She could feel the air around her freezing, despite the heat she was giving off. She could feel the atmosphere changing around her sword, despite her incandescence. This man was forcing her to use it. She was gonna have to use it _once again_.

 

 

> _"This is my power."_
> 
> _In front of the little girl, there was a wonderful show. A dazzling spectacle. A new world of light was before her, shining in the sunlight, a world she had never seen before. Around the man, time stopped its course, and froze in the ice. The trees, the flowers, the water, the waterfall, the atmosphere, nothing could resist the icy power of the unknown. He stood motionless on an icy pond and held out his hand. He looked at her with a smile, inviting her to walk on the ice. She walked carefully, the grass breaking with each step. Everything seemed so fragile, so beautiful to the child. Even the fireflies were immobilized, slowly sinking into this static atmosphere, gradually losing their color. The little girl looked at them in wonder. Fascinated by this mortal spectacle, fascinated by death. Death in the light._
> 
> _"I can teach you such power, if you wish."_
> 
> _The child looked up at the man, incredulous. She had just stepped on the ice, and he could read on her face that she did not believe in his power. But he knew. He could see her. That dark and desperate aura that surrounded the little girl wherever she went. To have such an aura at her age, she had to suffer enormously in her childhood. She must have lost something very precious. Just like him, she was broken._
> 
> _"You can master such power, but such power comes at a price."_  
> 
> 
> _Like him, she was willing to sacrifice her own life for such power. Like him, she had nothing else to lose. She had nothing. That is why silently, even before knowing the condition, the child accepted the consequences. He too had been saved by his master. He too had received the knowledge he was about to pass on. But such a salvation was only an appearance. The man knew that better than anyone. When he first saw her in that alley, she looked dead; lying in the dirt, her short white hair was stained with blood. When he met her the second time, she survived. And she tried to steal his money. His vital energy was so powerful that his healing speed exceeded common sense. Such great vital energy, in a broken envelope._
> 
> _"To achieve it, a condition must be placed. A specific condition._   
>  _To reach it, I sacrifice my life."_
> 
> _The man observed a few seconds of silence, and formed an ice rose in his hand. He stroked the child's palm and placed him there. Suddenly, under the amazed air of the child, the rose turned into a seed. Little by little, it opened, turning pink again. Man changed his form indefinitely. Finally, he withered it, and turned it into dust._
> 
> _"In your case, far more powerful than your life,_   
>  _your past is the source of your power. To reach such a level,_   
>  _you'll have to sacrifice your memories."_
> 
>  

From the stands, the spectators had just witnessed a tenebrous explosion around the Floor Master. The commentator, out of breath, was content to shout the young woman's nickname, unable to describe the rest of the fight. _Silence_. Quickly black flames had enveloped the whole scene, consuming everything in their path. _Silence_. The spectators in the front row walked away from the stage, frightened by the flames. _Silence_. Only two people stood in the front rows, a young man with black hair, and an eccentric with flame hair. _Silence_. The atmosphere changed abruptly, the whole room invaded by an opaque and boiling steam. On stage, visible only by those mastering Gyo, two auras clashed. A icy one, freezing even the most intense flames. An incandescent, consuming the ice. At the heart of this element storm were the two fighters. Each advanced towards the other, slowly, consuming more of the opponent's aura. _Silence_. It was the only thing filling the room. The only thing, accompanied by the insane laugh of one of the front row spectators. A man with golden eyes, whose gaze was lost in this ocean of ice and flame.  
  
   
  
Silence knew only too well the price of her power, but did not realize what she was actually losing. That was the reality of his power. As she approached the old man, she realized she was going to lose part of her memory. Wondering what part would be consumed by the flames. A person, an event, a memory, a smell. Part of her was going to escape. There was almost nothing left of his identity. She was nobody. _Silence_. The man in front of her equalled his own power. He who was so weak before, was now competing with her. _Silence_. She could hear the presenter stuttering his first name, and it was ringing in the room. In a few seconds would have ended, and silence would reign again. She concentrated the rest of her aura in her sword. _Silence_. She had just consumed all the energy she had left. She dived. _Silence_.  
  
   
  
Silence reigned again in the room, a major change occurring on stage. The flame aura had just dissipated, giving way to a smoke screen. Little by little, the air was purified, and two interspersed silhouettes could be seen in the centre of the stage. The man with the yellow eyes wrinkled his eyes, then a smile won his face. A smile of victory. He smiled, for at the centre of the stage, the object of his desires stood victorious. The young woman, her hair stuck to her skin, wet, still held her sword. His sword, now embedded in his opponent's body. Enveloped entirely by an armor of ice, but pierced in the belly by the sword of Silence, the old man was consumed in the flames. From the outside, only an orange light escaped from a large crystalline stone. _It's over_ , then the young woman knew. When she saw the ice disappear, little by little, she knew that it had been completely consumed by the flames. Its ice, the residue of its vital energy, slowly disappeared. The young woman had no idea what she had forgotten. Part of her had just died, along with this man. Yet she knew that grief was a strange feeling in her eyes, something she could not understand. She had never regretted the memories she had forgotten, not even knowing what she had lost. _However_.. However, she did not understand. As she looked at the ashes of this man, in the centre of the stage, foreign to the applause, a pain settled in her chest. Weak yet, a pain hitherto unknown to her left her a bitter taste. And as she watched ice roses form in the ashes, she couldn't understand why tears ran down her cheeks.


	4. Proposal and declaration

Silence left the arena, lost in her thoughts; from her struggle, she had emerged tired and damaged. The third stage of his power was difficult to bear because it imposed too much pressure on her body. When she chose fire, she had to concentrate to protect her body as much as possible from the heat, but still couldn't do it perfectly. It often came out with severe burns, and even more so when it reached the fourth stage. This pain was not unknown to the young woman, she had to tame it to control these flames, this heat.

Down the hall, nurses were waiting for her to come. A man tried to examine her, but the young woman dismissed them, preferring to treat herself. She continued to advance, entering a great hall. She went to the elevator, ignoring the medical team's warnings and listening only to her conscience. She didn't like the idea of being indebted to someone, of having to get attached to people. The man who healed her today, in the future, could become the one _she would kill_.

She didn't remember ever having a dream, an idea for the future. There was no future she could reach, no light waiting for her at the other end of the tunnel. She was _her_ , she was _nothing_. Would she find the reason for this existence? It was a thought that reached her from time to time. This question arose when a part of her disappeared, when for power she sacrificed her memory. When, rarely after this process, she felt something like regret. When, realizing the futility of this questioning, she returned to the path of power. _Becoming powerful_ was her answer. Become powerful, without having to sacrifice her memory.

Halfway, she stopped, something capturing her attention. Next to the elevator stood a young man in a black suit, leaning on the control panel, reading a book. Black streaks hid his gaze, and a blindfold surrounded his forehead. From the man emerged a powerful aura, contrasting with his youthful appearance. As he approached, he raised his head, looking into her own. He had grey, calculating eyes, and she could read on his face that he was there to talk to her. He was there because he wanted something from her.

Taking him for a potential customer, the young woman frowned and looked significantly at the elevator doors. Silently signaling to the man that he was in her way. He did not move, his expression initially indecipherable. Then, after staring at her for a few seconds, a smile appeared on her face.  
— I wasn't expecting to be ignored, the young man laughed.  
— I don't have time, replied the young woman as justification.

The young man stood up, closing his book. He continued to smile at her with a smile that did not reach his eyes, but his aura changed slightly. He seemed to think for a moment, before reaching a conclusion. Once again he looked into her eyes.  
— I'll be direct, then. Have you ever heard of the Ghost Brigade?  
— By name only, but not really, she answered slowly and cautiously.  
— The man you just killed was one of our members and I am Chrollo, the founder.  
  
  
Realizing her situation, Silence instinctively backed down, adopting a fighting position. But as she was about to materialize a dagger, the young man raised his hand.  
— I'm not looking for revenge, Chrollo added, he chose to die.  
  
  
Faced with the dubious air of the young woman, he laughed softly, pointing at her.  
— The future of the troupe, he explained with a smile, "I desire your power.  
  
  
She looked at him for a few moments, the realization striking her. He was looking at her, and a tacit request was floating in the air. Come with me, join us. He wanted her to become a member. She certainly did not expect such a request and if it were not for his powerful aura, she would have found it hard to believe that he was part of such an organization.  
— Not interested, replied the young woman as she walked towards the elevator.  
— I already knew your answer, sighed the young man, "he had warned me. I had a little hope, though.

He cleared the way, pressing the button instead of Silence. But the young woman looked at him frowning now. He had just mentioned someone, probably the person she had just fought, and some of the young woman wanted to know.  
— He had warned you, repeated the young woman darkly, but warned of what?  
— It sounds like I got your attention, he murmured with a smile.  
— I _really don't like_ to repeat myself, threatened the inexpressive young woman.  
  
  
Chrollo had however diverted his attention, heading towards the battle room. The young woman was going to question him but, before she could speak, she received a book launched in her direction. The man was looking at her from the corner of his eye now, always turning his back on her.  
— You may not remember, but he was your master at one time, added the young man, he was also my friend.  
  
  
He gave the young woman time to integrate the information, before taking the corridor leading to the arena. Silently she watched him leave, empty shell realizing her curse. A silent struggle took place in the young woman's mind, divided at the thought of believing Chrollo. Part of her whispered to her to abandon the past, that this information had little importance. The other part, much stronger, resonated with the pain she felt in her chest. That pain was real.

_"If you're curious, just come to our next meeting."_

In the book he had sent her, this message was handwritten, with an address and a date. Ignoring the elevator that had just arrived on her floor, the young woman looked at the book, a cold anger growing in her heart. She was angry, but didn't know who or what. Angry at herself, or angry at that man who confronted her? That man who was a part of her memory, and who had died without saying anything.  
— I must thank you for this show, laughed a voice behind the young woman.  
  
  
The young woman turned around and, barely noticing the man in the elevator, entered the cabin mechanically. She pressed the button sending to the ground floor, silent. She didn't want to talk to anyone, let alone an admirer or spectator. Next to her, the unknown looked at her smiling, indifferent to the silence of the young woman.  
— Fyu~! You are so cold, _so cold_ , laughed the man.  
  
  
She looked down, examining the man's feet beside her. Slowly, her gaze rose towards his face. He was wearing white pants, surrounded by bandages, with a matching body top. In the center of his chest, a red clover stood out inside an ace pattern of off-white spades. A magician's outfit. If this was not yet enough to make him strange in the eyes of the young woman, the overall impression he left her was amplified when she saw his head. Accompanying fuchsia hair, which miraculously held in the air, a star and a tear were drawn on each of his cheeks. In the middle of this chaos of clothing, two yellow eyes looked at her with a suspicious smile.  
— Your opponent was rather pitiful, _so weak_ , noticed the strange man by crossing his glance.  I wouldn't even have finished him, I think~!  
  
  
The doors that the young woman had locked deep inside her long ago suddenly opened. An intense anger broke out in her heart, a new and destructive feeling. The man to her left, responsible for this loss of control, was going to be the victim of his stupidity. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time, the young woman would have said if she could think rationally. The unknown, on the contrary, thought otherwise. He thought he was exactly where he needed to be. Facing her. The young woman was beginning to release a stifling heat, making it difficult to breathe in the elevator shaft.  
— One more word and I'll kill you, she threatened.

Probably excited by this perspective, the magician now had a look tinged with vice. His once too innocent smile was replaced by the grin of a predator, a hunter. His aura exploded, murderous intentions sent towards the young woman. Out of nowhere, a pack of cards appeared in his hands, accompanied by red confetti.  
— Oooh~! If you take it like that, moans the magician, let's dance in the flames ♥  
  
  
But the young woman's aura dissipated under the magician's shocked gaze. Inexpressive, but disappointed, one could read on his face that he had not foreseen such a turn. The young woman had turned away, the elevator had just stopped, and was now leaving the cabin. She wanted more than all power, but full power. A power without counterpart. And fighting that man would be a waste of time, especially being hurt like she was. One moment, she lost control, and the other one closed the doors of her mind.  
— Not interested," replied the young woman, advancing into the entrance hall.  
  
  
Faced with such a change of attitude, clearly annoyed, the magician seemed to think about an attitude to adopt. Suddenly, and with a much more serious face, he seemed to make his decision. At a phenomenal speed, he moved in front of her, blocking her passage with his right arm.  
— I'd be interested to know what Chrollo wanted from you, he asked.  
— Your arm, it's in the way, said the young woman.  
— Oh my poor heart, dramatized the magician by squeezing his chest, me who wanted to give you information about him~!  
  
  
Ignoring him once again, the young woman pushed his arm dryly, more than irritated by the tenacity of this man and she left the building. Something in him disturbed her strongly, in addition to the fact that he managed ~ Oh ~ so easily to make her lose control. As she was preparing to disappear, she felt her phone vibrating in her boot. She stopped for a few seconds, realizing what time it was. It was getting dark outside, and the lights in the city were slowly coming on. She was late, and her client might cut her pay. The stranger continued to follow her, and she gritted her teeth, irritated by the man. Never before had she been so irritated by anyone. At a lightning speed, the young woman disappeared to reappear behind him, with the objective of breaking his neck. However, she found herself in a situation she had not anticipated.  
  
  
Under the light of the streetlights, and so close up, the man was almost handsome. The soft light highlighted the curves of her face, and the golden glow of her eyes was much warmer. It was after these thoughts crossed her mind that she realized her situation. His face was only a few centimetres from that of the magician, his right eye in front of her left eye. For a few moments, amazed, she thought he had kissed her, but the feeling on her lips was different. Something was stuck on her mouth. She realized then. The only thing holding her lips from touching the magician's was a few inches, and a card. She opened her eyes, deeply confused by his weirdness. Faced with her reaction, the magician laughed softly. He reduced the space between his lips and the card, kissing the other side, then disappearing in the blink of an eye. Not knowing how to behave, the young woman stared at the emptiness for a few moments, then removed the card from her mouth. That was a 9 of spades, the worst in the game. She announced unhappiness, death. A declaration of war. The girl turned the card over, and gnashed her teeth when she saw the other side. When she saw the message he had left her.

  
__________________________________________________  
  
"Your power has a weakness ♣ Call me if you're curious ♥"  
Hisoka 301-555-****  
__________________________________________________

 


	5. A decisive interview

In the early evening, the bars began their real day. A day that belongs only to those who live at night, in the shadows. A new population was taking to the streets and passers-by were slowly returning home, taking out their umbrellas. It was a strange vision, these two different universes complementing each other. These two universes jostling, tearing each other apart, but never being able to mix. The raindrops punctuated the infinite movement of the crowd, masking the differences for a few moments. And under the fine rain, time passed, hiding multiple faces in the shade of the umbrellas. Among these faces was a young woman who was hardly noticed. In these restless alleys, it seemed to blend into the landscape, absorbing the night world. Ignoring the water running down her hair, she looked at the tallest tower in town. She watched this building spread to the skies, enveloped by clouds. She was thinking about the offer her employer had just made her, lost in the depths of the city. There was far too much missing data, far too much unexpected. And for the first time, she was ordered to kill someone she knew.  
  
  


_ One hour earlier _   
  
_A man in his fifties was watching the young woman with a cigar in his mouth. He was sitting in a leather armchair, and behind him lay the whole city. In this office, made entirely of black furniture, his client looked like an important man. Few personal objects, few ties, but an obvious wealth. In this dark office, lit by city light and a small desk lamp, he stood. The bay window symbolized his hold over the entire city, or at least he believed it. The young woman knew these people well, those who think money rules the world. Let money determine strength. It was the kind of client she saw most often, they gloat about a murder without knowing the taste of blood._   
_– It is a particular and difficult job I will give you, puffed the man in a cloud of smoke, but I trust your reputation._   
  
  
_The man got up from his seat, crushing his cigar in an ashtray. Silence watched the smoke escape from the cigarette butt, then laid eyes on his client. He had stood up, accessing a safe hidden behind one of his paintings. After a few moments, he took out a file and threw it on his desk, signaling the young woman to take it. She opened it, analyzing its contents. The vast majority of reports are incomplete on the activities of a criminal group. But after a few lines, astonishment submerged the Floor-master_   
_– If you want to get rid of this group, the Zoldick family might be a smarter choice, the young woman frowned._   
_– I've already called on Silva Zoldyck, explained the man, but that's not the kind of work I'm offering. I don't want you to get rid of the group, I want you to infiltrate it._   
  
  
_The man lit a second cigar and returned to his seat. The young woman did not answer, and it was a sign that she was listening attentively. His employer exhaled a long trail of smoke that escaped into the atmosphere, playing with the light. He turned his chair in the direction of the bay window, and observed the horizon. She could say that the horizon he was looking at was not the same as the one she wanted, it was not the world of light she would die to reach. This man was indulging himself in the depths while she had always drowned there. Struggling to survive, to become stronger, eventually adapting to this surrounding darkness. What that man wanted was right in front of him. What she wanted was thousands of light years away, a very distant light._   
_– I haven't done an undercover mission for years, the young woman said firmly._   
_– I know, replied the man who turned his back on her, but this is a special mission. This man, Chrollo, stole something important from me. That I'll never be able to find._   
  
  
  
_The young woman knew that even people like him could have important things that could not be bought with money. She sometimes felt empty at the thought that she had nothing important, nothing connecting her to this world. She had no concept of sadness, she had no idea what sadness was. She just knew that sometimes she felt this missing feeling inside her. That moment when, asking the void what was the reason for its existence, no one was there to answer it. Become stronger, but for what? Survive, but for what reason? She was throwing these questions into the sea, locked in glass bottles. But the answer never came._   
_– I want you to become a member of this troop, to report to me their every move, commanded the man. I want to find out what's important to this man and I want to destroy him, I want to destroy his life before I kill him._   
****

_**____________________** _

The young woman opened the door of her apartment, located in the heights of the Heaven's arena. She observed where she lived, and a smile appeared on her face for the first time. A smile full of sadness grew, full of sweetness, a smile of which she was not even aware. Her apartment consisted of four rooms. Kitchen, bathroom, bedroom and living room. The living room was big, but empty, filled with a large armchair and a television screen. The rest of the dwelling was thus devoid of any personal objects. She had little or nothing. Something rubbed into her legs, and she looked down at her cat. She closed the door, and knelt down, scratching his head. Alone in the entrance of her living room, caressing her cat, the young woman unconsciously overflowed with sensitivity. Within seconds, something had changed in her. Something that disappeared instantly when she got up.  
  
   
  
A few moments later, she fell on her bed, tired. She looked up at the ceiling, a bottle of alcohol by her side. Her work was a multi-year undercover mission. Her employer was a patient man, but she could not take any liberties. She should wait, day after day for her orders. Because the day he finds it necessary to kill Chrollo, it will be the day she least expects it. She was looking at her ceiling, assessing the situation. She felt something climb on her bed and then felt her cat purring. She turned her gaze to the bedside table, as he rubbed himself in her legs. The two objects she saw there were strangely her only possessions in this large apartment. A book, and a card. An invitation, and a war declaration. The alcohol burned her throat, spreading a gentle heat in her blood. What a strange day, the young woman thought. Her body was still worn from her battle, her skin burnt but damp, her mind tangled and her hair wet. She was curious to know, though. She was curious who the man she had killed was, who he was to her. What was that feeling in her chest, and if she could make it go away.  
  
  
She opened the book, rereading the address. She couldn't let it happen. She remembered her encounter with these two men, full of the unexpected events. She slipped the card into the book, intrigued by the magician's words. Hisoka. He was so sure of himself, arrogant, and strangely he reminded her of someone. There was familiarity in the annoyance she felt towards him, and that feeling prevented her from throwing that card away. Moreover, she had already heard his name recently, which meant he was fighting in the arena. So she knew she would meet him again. This kind of person never gave up, she could only hope that he would give up his desire to fight her. She felt it would be a waste of time and boring to fight. _Really, terribly boring_. He would do anything to make her use Breath of fire, the fourth stage of her ability, and she could see in his eyes that he was not the type to change his mind.  
 – _Your power has a weakness_ , caricatured the young woman, what a boring man.

 

As she swallowed a sip of whiskey, lost in her thoughts, the object of her resentment came out of the shower a few floors down. Wrapped in a damp towel, he no longer had anything of the eccentric man of earlier. His hair was wet, and his makeup was gone. His eyes, however, had not changed. They were staring at the screen, devouring the Floor-master. He had analysed, again and again, the fight having taken place at the end of the afternoon. He had been nourished by this vision. You could see him shaking, and his breathing accelerated, his desire growing again and again. It was an unexpected discovery, an amazing revelation. The excitement he felt, he couldn't make it go away. When he felt Chrollo's presence, he followed him. The one he had met a few months earlier, the one he wanted to fight. But once in the arena, what he had seen there exceeded what he had seen before. At the branch of the tree was hung a red vermeil apple. He had seen it before, he had already felt its potential, but the still fragile flower had suddenly matured before his eyes. And she threatened to fall, dangerously. Her swing, her color, she was tempting him. He wanted to rip her off, to bite into her flesh. He wanted to pick this vermeil fruit. Before his eyes, a brutal power had manifested itself. Like a phoenix, the young woman stood in a stream of flames. Appearing to be reborn in the ashes, she stood. And she was burning his mind.  
  
  
Hisoka suspended the video, and watched the young woman. She stood with her sword in her hand, surrounded by flames. He groaned and looked at his door darkly. He could, now, fight her. He could find her, destroy her. But he wouldn't see that ability, he knew it. His expression became that of a disappointed child. The apple had become a fragile flower again. A proud flower. He had to wait patiently. Wait until spring. But in the meantime, he could still play with her. A vicious smile appeared on the magician's face, and behind his smile hid a thousand mysteries. Still shaking, he turned his gaze to the bathroom, then to his hips. A light, tenebrous laugh from his mouth, as he turned around.  
 – And I had barely gotten out of the shower, the magician muttered, how embarrassing.~


	6. Dust and desolation

The wind was blowing, but the breeze was hot, sharp. On the horizon was an infinity of earth and sand, desolation waiting for travelers venturing into these lands. The sun, intense, seemed to bend the ground under its heat, making the sand grains shimmer. There was nothing, nothing here. There was no water, there were no plants. There were no trees, there was no life. Even in the sky there was not a cloud, not a bird, and the wind carried nothing but dust. Anyone who had never lived in the desert could not have survived such a crossing on foot. The soil was too hot, the air too heavy, and the sun too dangerous. There was only death. _Death, and nothing else._  
  
However, one person advanced in this desert, insensitive to this heat, insensitive to drought. All you could see of her from behind was her torn black cape, shaken by a draft. Between two flashes of light, shiny iron boots could be seen sinking into the sand. A black hood hid her face and like a scarf, two pieces of cloth surrounded the person, alternating two shades: black and grey. With her right hand she held a sword, upside down, whose blade went up in her back. From the top of a dune the silhouette looked out over the horizon, looking for something. Suddenly, a gust of wind uncovered his face. A long silver hair flew away, swept away by the warm breeze. The young woman, whose hair belonged to, passed a gloved and thoughtful hand through it.

 

In this desert for more than a week, Silence had been looking for Meteor City, dump of this world. It was considerable in size, however, so was this desert. The young woman's informant had told her the direction, but had refused to give more information, grumbling something about treason before fleeing with the car. She had not felt it necessary to catch up with him, not wanting to waste her time with such trifles. That's how the Floor Master found herself criss-crossing this desert from top to bottom, alone, and on foot. Well, not totally alone, the young woman having met some people on the way. _They showed me that direction_ , she murmured to herself, _I can't be that far away._

From the top of the dune, she observed a small dot on the horizon, her sword in her hand. She had been approached several times during her journey, and although she did not feel particularly in danger, she was always wary of the Phantom Troup. _Chrollo was powerful_. She believed in his ability to beat him if he ever opposed her, but something bothered him. During her research, she had not been able to determine her abilities or aura type. The man was surrounded by mystery and the different people she had interviewed, all of whom had given different answers. It was with these thoughts that she tied her sword to her waist, covering her face again with her cape. After a few moments, she set out towards her goal, now certain to advance towards Meteor City.  
  
On the way, she took out a book from the inside of her cape, observing the address indicated on the cover page. Her gaze drifted to the card that served as her bookmark, as well as to the telephone number carefully written in black ink. This man was the only person she had not interviewed who knew Chrollo. _Hisoka_. She looked up to the sky, observing the sun. The burning air was fresh against her skin, and under her feet stood a calcined ground echoing her past. Slowly, very slowly, the clock was ticking, breaking the wall separating the past from the future.

_______________________________

_The atmosphere rubbed against her skin, merciless. The girl was standing on her knees, out of breath, thirsty. Incandescent, orbs surrounded the teenager, flying towards the sky. They were flying, straight out of the volcano cave. Leaning on her right hand, the teenager squeezed the earth between her phalanges, as hot as coal. The ground trembled under her fingers, purring and pitching at the same time. The heat was indescribable, incomparable, overwhelming. The sun, having reached its zenith, overhung the volcano activity._

_"You cannot form a flame as intense as a  
volcano if your body is as fragile as a flower."_

_The girl laughed with a light laugh. Maybe she was aiming too high, maybe she was asking too much of her body. Her master had kindly pointed this out to her. And half collapsed, on the edges of a volcano, the child looked down into the precipice. She had been training for six years, yet her body couldn't stand the heat._

_"More power, even more power."_

_A little voice whispered in her mind, leading her down a dangerous path. This competence was particular, and its consequent price. Her body couldn't handle it, not yet. She wanted a flame that could burn anything, but her own aura could end up burning her body if she couldn't control it. Thus, for weeks she practiced protecting her body from the heat of the volcano, resisting hugging. Anyone would not have survived more than an hour in these places, but her recklessness was matched only by his determination. She thought she was ready. Ready to try. Thus she observed the depths of the volcano, a smile on her face, forgetting the advice of her master._

_"You're still weak, tiny flower. If you came to use that ability today,  
the price would be far too great."_

_______________________________

The sound of her footsteps resounded in the alley, going to get lost in the wind and dust. After having crossed dumps after dumps, walked over a blood-stained floor many times, she had just reached the address indicated.  Silence had followed the instructions, walking through the winding and crowded streets of Etoile Filante. The city was big, very big. Cut off from the rest of the world, sheltering more than seven million inhabitants, it rose towards the sky, but never rising beyond its own condition. Beyond his own misery. Here accumulated dust and desolation. The people she had met on the street all wore masks, as if to protect themselves from the putrid smell. Odour that even the breeze didn't seem to wash away.  
  
It is silently that she entered the building, the metallic sound of her boots long gone. She could feel the presence of several people at the other end of the corridor, their aura enveloped her, as if to welcome her in these places. She entered a large room, decayed, whose only decoration was dusty boxes. A skylight came from the cracked ceiling, illuminating the silhouette of a man sitting on a cement platform. Two stairs led up, occupied by people still unknown to the young woman. The man in question, Chrollo, was sitting on a wooden box, his chin supported by his hands, his elbows on his knees. To her left and right were two men, one of small stature with black hair, and the other of large stature, blond with short hair. The disinterested look of the man with black hair grazed her, his mouth hidden by the collar of his jacket. The blonde, on the contrary, was staring at her intensely.  
— We were waiting for you, Chrollo said with a smile, I'm glad to see that you accepted...

She did not give him time to finish his sentence, removing her hood and releasing her silver hair. She had not come here to have less important discussions with him and had no need for politeness, she had to carry out her mission.  
— I did not accept anything, calmly cut the young woman, it is your information that brings me.  
  
One of the men who was sitting on the stairs jumped up and suddenly appeared behind her, his gun threatening the young woman's throat. She opened her eyes, slightly surprised. She had certainly seen him coming, however, she had not seen him draw his katana. She had barely had time to grab her sword and position it under his chin. The young woman had not moved an inch, only her right arm was bent behind her.  
—  Cut off his word again, and I kill you, intervened the man, threatening.  
—  Get your sword out of me, she asked coldly, I'm not interested in a bloodbath.  
  
The room was silent now. The Floor Master swept the room with her eyes, counting the number of potential opponents, and gauging her chances of survival. In addition to the two people accompanying Chrollo, and the man who threatened her, two people stood on the stairs. They were both men of strong stature. One had the build of a bear, and the other of a golem. One released an incommensurable thirst for blood, the other a measured interest. To the right of the cement platform, three people were playing cards on an old box. Their part had just been interrupted by the man in the katana and they were watching the scene. One of them looked cheerful, a young man with blond hair, whose strands fell gently on his face. He didn't seem to be disturbed by the situation, not at all.  
— There he goes again, he sighed with a smile.  
— It brought us some entertainment, added a woman with pink hair, while mixing up the cards.  
— Which do you want to bet on, Pakunoda?  
— I don't want to bet, replied the second woman, massaging her temples.  
  
At the other end of the room, on the stage, the man with raven hair had stood up and was slowly descending the stairs. He had his hands in his pockets, and his eyes were squinted now. As he passed the man with the bear's hairs, he whispered something in his collar. His voice was so weak and calm that it was hard to listen to him.  
— You lose your calm too easily, whispered the man. Look into what...  
— _Be quiet_ , suddenly commanded a voice, imperative.  
  
The man behind her held his breath, seemingly calming down. The one who came down the stairs stopped, turning around. The voice belonged to Chrollo, who had just got up. Although calm, his expression refused any compromise. The Floor Master, which had finished her inspection some time earlier, had reached a conclusion. She would have difficulty leaving this room in case of conflict, and she knew the abilities of only a few members here. To refuse Chrollo's invitation so suddenly might have been misguided, but if she were to infiltrate the spider, to appear too motivated would be suspicious. She had to step back, argue, bargain.  
— Nobunaga, Feitan, Chrollo ordered as he stepped forward, return to your seats.  
  
The man behind her disappeared, returning down the stairs. With his sword in hand, and an annoyed look, Nobunaga took his original place, next to the two men of strong stature. His legs crossed, his katana resting on his shoulder, he sat down, never looking away from her. Feitan returned to his seat in silence as Chrollo walked towards the young woman.  
  
His grey eyes pierced her, as if trying to solve a mystery, and the young woman could read lust in his eyes. However, this lust was not turned towards her. He didn't want her, he wanted _something else_. And so, face to face with the head of the Phantom Troup, an interrogation took shape in her mind.

_But what does he really want?_


	7. Chapter 7

Two grey eyes were planted in hers, dull orbs seeking to discover her secrets. For a few moments, time seemed to freeze. He was standing in front of her, his left hand stuck in one of her pockets. His white shirt was floating slightly, but there was no wind in the room. His hair danced before his eyes, but the air was frozen around them. The reason for all this was clear. Slowly, insidiously, he released his aura on the young woman, a smile on his face. In front of the Floor Master was her target, the man she was going to have to kill. The man she was gonna have to fight. Everything in her was crying out to do her duty, to achieve her goal. And he was much more powerful than she thought. Much more powerful than he let on. Probably much more powerful than she is right now. And yet...  
  
A card sounded in a corner of the room, attracting the young woman's gaze, and time resumed its course. The members of the brigade had resumed their activities, as if this event had never taken place. She watched the other three members chat vividly, absorbed in their play. Nobunaga no longer looked at her, at least directly, and locked his sword in a cloth case. Feitan was talking with the blond man in his sweatpants, occasionally looking wearily at the front door. After a few seconds, a throat scraping brought the young woman's attention back to her interlocutor. His grey pupils had softened slightly, but his eyes were directed towards the young woman's hands. She also looks down and realizes her situation. His sword was pointed at him. She didn't even remember lifting it. Slightly annoyed, she made it disappear by frowning. As she continued to stare at her hands, Chrollo watched her, smiling as if guessing her thoughts. With a wave of his hand, bringing the Floor Master's attention back, he offered her to join him.  
  
He moved up the stairs almost instantly and she followed him, observing her surroundings. Behind the spider's head was a large map, held to the wall by a knife. A large red circle had been drawn around a forest and other locations had been marked by small black crosses. Books were piling up below the map, all relatively old. She gave a look to the book hanging at her waist, the book that Chrollo had given her. She hadn't really taken the time to read it or look inside. Did she ever read anything outside of her mission orders and the papers? After a few seconds, she felt the young man's gaze sticking in her back. Slightly frowning, still vigilant after the last event, she turned her head towards him. He looked at her smiling, pointing at the book. He had just pronounced the word silently, his mouth forming the syllables, but no sound coming out from between his lips.

[ _Poetry_ ]

 

Before she could answer anything, he was already back sitting down. He had returned to his original position, the oval of his face gracefully placed in his hand, his elbows resting on his knees. His gaze was turned towards the back of the room.  
— Maki, he asked calmly. What about Omokage?  
— No news for a week, sighed a female voice on the other side of the room.  
— I see, he said thoughtfully, stroking his lips.  
— Boss, grunted the bear-haired man. If I stay here another hour, I'll rip my brain off, or I'll blow someone else's.  
— You would still have to have something to tear off, Nobunaga added, chewing a piece of wood.  
— He has a point, Uvogin, Feitan whispered in his collar.  
  
The man in question took a few moments to understand what his friend had said. He opened his mouth, looking at Feitan, then Nobunaga. And, suddenly, he realized. His aura intensified, his expression becoming sinister. The samurai-looking man frowned, looking defiantly at him, with a smile on his lips. However, as he slowly pulled his sword out of its case, as Uvogin inflated his muscles and a blond man approached them, hands up, ready to hit them behind the head, a sound of footsteps resounded at the back of the room. All turned their heads, stopping their activities.  
  
Although concentrated on the front door, Silence nevertheless noticed the man in tracksuit finishing his action and hitting his two comrades. Amused by the situation despite herself, the young woman smiles slightly. The smile was weak, almost invisible, and lasted no longer than a second. For as Nobunaga and his brother turned around, grumbling at the man apparently named Phinx, a man with silver hair came out of the shadows. Grey hair like hers. He was wearing dark clothes, and his eyes were dull. Paying no attention to the people around him, or even to the fact that he was apparently late, he kept moving calmly. The young woman noticed something on her right hand, and realized it was a tattoo. A spider, number four.  
— Heh, the puppeteer, called out to Phinx, staring at him. You didn't show up at the last mission and you're late, can you explain?  
  
The man with grey hair turned his inexpressive gaze towards him. He did not bother to answer, going to sit at the edges of the concrete platform, moving away from the rest of the group. Clearly irritated, the man in his tracksuit turned towards Chrollo and Feitan, asking what behaviour to adopt. The little man with black hair shrugged his shoulders, while the spider's leader shook his head, telling him to give up. Silence watched the scene, interested. The fourth member of the brigade was still unknown to her employer, and she had never heard of him before. _A puppeteer_ , weighted the young woman by leaning against the wall. The man, Omokage, seemed to notice his presence, and turned his head in his direction. There was in his movements a mechanical and inorganic aspect. He looked her in the eyes, and his face lit up strangely, a sinister smile appearing on his face.  
— Our new member, Chrollo explained to the puppeteer.  
— What happened to number eight?  
— Dead.  
  
The young woman was going to answer, but felt the glance of other members on her. A heavy silence had just fallen in the room. After a few moments, she decided not to protest, having no real reason to oppose it. Chrollo's gaze brushed the Floor Master's, and she swear she saw the shadow of a smile on his lips. He then stood up, moving towards the map. At the other end of the room, a young blond boy got up at the same time as him. He joined him, a file under his arm.  
— As we are full now, began the young man smiling, it is time to talk about our next target.

 

The chief of the brigade turned to his members, spreading his arms. His usually icy look was feverish, animated by something that the Floor Master easily identified. Desire. Possessiveness. Ambition. Determination.  
— A certain tribe caught my attention, Chrollo explained with fascination. They have eyes of a particular color, very particular.  
— The problem is that we don't know their location yet, the young blond man completed by pointing the card. They should reside in this area according to some testimony, but it remains broad, it will require...  
— Why so many details, growled another voice. We search, we find, we kill, and that's it.  
— That's why you're stupid, Nobunaga sighed, scratching her head. Shalnark just said we were going to get them, you morons, let him finish his sentence.  
— Calm down, Chrollo recalled firmly, clapping his hands. Uvogin, Nobunaga, Feitan, Phinks, Omokage, these eyes belong to me, I want you to go there.  
— And if possible, Shalnark added slowly, staring at Uvogin, we would need more information.  
— Why, _if possible_? Uvogin asked, squinting his eyes.  
— There are several witnesses but killing them before questioning them is _not necessary_.  
  
While Uvogin grumbled something about lack of humour, Feitan, Phinks and Omokage approached Shalnark. They started a discussion around different documents, turning from time to time towards the map. Observing her for a few moments, Chrollo called out to the Floor Master. Leaning against the wall, she seemed bored from the beginning of the meeting. Internally, however, she wondered what strategy to adopt. The clan of which Chrollo spoke was known by her, the Kuruta clan. However, shehad no obligation to share this information with them. It would take too long, too much time.  
  
As she sighed, she left her seat and headed for the chief of the troup. He had been joined by the young woman with pink hair and another older, blonde. As she approached, he beckoned to the two women, seeming to ask them to wait a few moments. He turned around, orienting himself towards the Floor Master and in a fast, though graceful movement, he suddenly appeared next to her. His eyes once again planted in hers.  
— We both know why you are here, he said in a soft but firm voice.  
— What are your conditions?  
— You become a member of the spider, help us in our activities and protect our interests. Of course, you will get your information, he added with a smile, before taking a break. You won't really have to change your lifestyle, just....  
— But?  
— It is important that you understand something... _Betrayal in the troup is not an option_.  
  
He had insisted on the last sentence, piercing her with his eyes. A dark and compact aura surrounded the young woman once again. _Don't look down_ , she reasoned. The aura grazed her, almost seeping under her skin. _Don't push him away_ , she said to herself again. Her blue pupils never leaving the dark eyes of the chief of the troup, she released hers slightly, also enveloping him, in a much softer and almost friendly way. As if to welcome him, before breaking contact. Suddenly, brutally, hiding her aura.  
— You came to me, not the other way around, she recalled coldly. No threats, or no deal.  
  
For a moment, a flame was lit at the bottom of the grey eyes. He wanted something, and she knew it. He felt an interest in her, and she could see it in his eyes. She also wanted his information, but they both knew they would go nowhere with such a dialogue. She did not yet know the reason, nor what he was preparing, but the smile he now displayed was far too sweet to be entirely sincere. And as if they had reached a common agreement, Chrollo raised his hand and signaled to the other two women to join them.  
— Welcome to the Phantom Troup, Silence, he murmured warmly. Machi will take care of you. We can... _talk later_.

 

He had pronounced this last sentence with a much lower voice, almost bewitching, before moving away from her. She watched him leave, eyes fixed on his back, while the young girl with pink hair crossed his path. She was accompanied by the other blonde woman and they seemed to have a silent discussion, although not looking each other in the eye. For a few seconds, as they grazed Chrollo, they stopped.  
— I have a bad feeling about her, Machi whispered, slightly suspicious.  
— I could check, proposed the woman with blond hair.  
— It won't be necessary Paku, said Chrollo confidentially. She won't betray us.  
  
Chrollo continued on his way, joining the other members of the brigade. Silence looked at them, exchanging a few words with Machi and Pakunoda. _How many days, how many months, how many years should she stay in this group? Until when? At what point?_ The young woman did not have the answer, and she knew it. The final confrontation could suddenly occur, triggered by a simple message, a simple sentence on the other side of the phone. It could happen that evening like the next, a sibylline moment interrupted by the sun, death enveloping life in its darkness. The darkness, the young woman knew. She was around death. That universe, that environment, that was her element. This final confrontation was what she expected. To finish her mission, to accomplish her task. Feel the satisfaction of having reached her goal. _To do something_. And while Machi carved the spider's seal into her lower back, the Floor Master manipulated Chrollo's book, thoughtful . All the texts were handwritten, fine and elegant. But the first text of the book, a Japanese poem, resonated strangely in her heart.

 

 **The flower of carnage**  
  
Begrieving snow falls in the dead morning,  
Stray dog's howls and the footsteps of Geta pierce the air.  
I walk with the weight of the Milky Way on my shoulders.  
But an umbrella that holds onto the darkness is all there is.  
I'm a woman who walks at the brink of life and death,  
Who's emptied my tears many moons ago.  
All the compassion tears and dreams,  
The snowy nights and tomorrow hold no meaning.  
I've immersed my body in the river of vengeance,  
And thrown away my womanhood many moons ago.


End file.
